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Title: A Point Of Perspective
Author: Ainzfern
Series: DS9
Code: Crusher/Gul Macet, Bashir/Garak, EMH/Barclay, McCoy/Spock, Phlox/Archer (Is that enough for ya?)
Rating: PG
Parts: 1 (1/1)
Disclaimer: Paramount owns STAR TREK ... etc and so on and so forth!
My only pay here is personal joy
Summary: At a Starfleet Medical conference in San Francisco, an unlikely collection of guests react in various ways to the attendance of a certain Gul. Definite PWP. Oh yeah. Without a doubt. Totally ludicrous.
Archiving: Cool- if you want to- please let me know.
Feedback: Yes please! All comments welcome.
Author's Note: Thanks to Martoq for the answers I was looking for. You're a legend! <GRIN>
There's not much more I can say about this one, except, erm... sorry.

A Point Of Perspective

Doctor Julian Bashir sighed softly, took a sip of his punch and spoke from behind his glass, directing his low voiced words to the large potted plant in the corner.

"Please come out of there, love. Cardassians *are* welcome on Earth since the treaty was signed, you know."

A rather terse reply came from somewhere within the shrubbery. "So you say, my dear. However, there is still an entire reception to get through. One simply can't be too careful."

"Yes, but *hiding* behind a *bush*?"

Garak, his eyes flashing with splendid affrontery, appeared at Julian's shoulder. "Hiding?" He flicked an errant fern frond off his velvet-clad shoulder. "I was doing no such thing. I was merely... observing."

Julian smiled, eyes twinkling. "So, do tell me. What did you *observe* about Doctor McCoy's speech?"

Garak pursed his lips. "Well, in spite of the fact that his entire presentation was so liberally peppered with Southern colloquialisms that my translator failed on no less than three occasions, I actually found that overall... it was quite invigorating."

Julian laughed. "He's an *amazing* old chap, isn't he? Did you know that he's *over* one hundred and fifty years old?!"

"Yes, my dear, I *did* read the conference program." The Cardassian frowned and scanned the gathering. "I wonder where good Doctor McCoy's legendary and life-extending bondmate could be?"

"Oh, I expect Ambassador Spock will be about the place somewhere." Julian also scanned the reception room. "Apparently, they never go anywhere without each oth... Good *GOD*!"


"Over there!" White faced, Julian pointed a trembling finger. "Don't tell me you didn't see him just walk in?"

Garak looked, narrowed his eyes and then nodded. "Ah."

"Ah?" Julian's eyes were literally bulging. "Is that *all* you can say? My God, Elim... We've got to warn Starfleet Headquarters that he isn't dead!"

"That's not him, dear," Garak replied calmly.

"It's not?" Julian peered across the room again. "Are you certain?"

"Quite certain. Although even *I* must confess, the resemblance is remarkable."

Julian shook his head in amazement. "*I'll* say! Good *grief* that gave me a turn."

"Hmmm. Well at least his presence here will have *one* beneficial side effect." Garak smiled.


"Yes. I won't have to endure everyone staring at *me*."


"Doctor Phlox?"

"Yes? Oh, good evening, Captain Archer. You found me, then."

Archer blinked and lowered his voice. "Y'know, for a man who just got pulled into a temporal rift and thrown hundreds of years into the future, you seem incredibly calm."

Phlox smiled sweetly. "I had every confidence that you would locate me, and in actual fact, I have found the whole experience remarkably interesting. I'm considering devoting an entire chapter of my research to it."

"Oh?" Intrigued despite the very real danger of discovery, Archer leaned forward.

"Oh yes." Phlox nodded towards the buffet table. "Take for example the way that the people of this time line observe *every* move that Cardassian male over there makes."

"Yeah... They *do* seem captivated, don't they?"

"Yes. It is *my* theory that Cardassians must be considered very alluring in this time period."

Archer narrowed his eyes, peering through the crowd at the figure by the table. "Hmmm. I don't see it, myself." He gave Phlox a stern look. "It's time to go, Doctor. I would like you to come with me."

Phlox followed Captain Archer out of the function room, his earnest voice fading away as they exited into the corridor. "Truly, Captain? Well, that *is* encouraging. You know, inter-species sexual relations have long been a fascination of mine and..."


"Wow. That's... wow... amazing!"

Cool, calm and exceptionally bland, the now "officially sentient" EMH turned away from Barclay's wide-eyed face and followed the direction of the human's stare.

"What exactly am I being amazed by, Reginald?"

"Look at that Cardassian Gul over there!"

"Yes... and?"

Barclay pulled an apologetic face. "That's right... You were still lost in the Delta Quadrant when all that Pah Wraith business went on." He gave his holographic companion a warm smile. "Access your newer information files on DS9's recent history."

A pause. "Hmmm. Interesting."

"Isn't it just?" Barclay took a sip from his ale, grimaced and set it aside."

"Quite a resemblance," the EMH added.

"Sure is. I wonder if he knows?"

The EMH looked at the Cardassian again. "From the baffled look on his face, I would say no." He sighed and turned back to Barclay again. "So... to the issue we were discussing, Reginald. What *did* Doctor Zimmerman say?"

"When I told him you and I were, uhm..." Barclay blushed.

"Expanding my sexual sub-matrix?" the EMH finished blandly.

Barclay's face turned scarlet. "Well, he uh... said that it was not technically his business, but that he'd be interested in viewing the summary report."

"I see. Is that all?"

"Yes. Oh... and then he backed away and stayed behind his desk all morning."

The EMH nodded with satisfaction. "Well, that sounds like approval to *me*."


Leaning over the balcony railing outside the main reception room, Doctor Beverly Crusher gazed out over the bay. The night was warm, the breeze was gentle and the bay reflected a thousand different pinpoints of light.

//And I'm here on my *own*. As usual.// She heaved a soft sigh.

"Doctor... Crusher, isn't it?" A soft, deep voice came from behind her.

She smiled. //Thank you, God. Now, just let him be tall, dark and handsome and the night's a winner!//

She turned. //OK. Tall, dark and interesting. I can live with that.//

She felt a sudden flash of recognition. "Gul Macet?"

He smiled, looking immensely pleased. "You remember me? I am flattered."

She watched him as he came to stand beside her, leaning casually against the railing. He really was well formed for a Cardassian, she decided. Almost as pleasing to look at as young Julian Bashir's mate.

Macet was lean, broad shouldered and tall. His features were striking, even for a Cardassian, but the genuine light of warmth and careful friendliness that gleamed in his dark eyes softened his face somewhat, turning what might have been once cold and haughty into something far more appealing.

//My dear Gul... unless you are married, gay or a eunuch, you are coming home with *me* tonight.// Beverly's eyes drifted down the firm lines of Macet's legs.

The Cardassian was leaning towards her; his eyes darting somewhat self-consciously back into the function room. "Uhm, doctor?"

"Yes, Gul Macet?" Beverly flicked her auburn hair back over her shoulder and set her eyes to 'slow simmer'.

"Could you possibly explain why, in Gul's name, is everyone in the reception room *looking* at me?"

Beverly blinked. Then she frowned a little, peering closely at him.

He pointed to her face. "That's the *very* look I mean, Doctor!" he exclaimed.

"Well..." she trailed off. Actually, now that she thought about it, there *was* a fair resemblance between Macet and that unfortunate Gul she'd read about in the DS9 dispatches some time ago. Gul Bucket, or something...

She smiled again, stepping forward and smoothly taking his arm. "Why don't we take a nice stroll down by the water, and I'll tell you *all* about it, Mmmm?"

With her head high and her face slightly smug, she led him back into the reception, past a hundred covertly staring faces, and out into the corridor.


Over by the far side of the bar, a soft voice, rusty with age but still strong with vitality, chuckled wickedly as he watched the striking pair leave.

The lady had guts, he had to give her that. And good luck to her too. If she wanted to dally with a Cardassian, well... that should be no one's business but hers.

"Ah'll tell you *this* much, darlin'... It's not any easier fallin' in love now then it was in our day." He picked up his generous measure of single malt and threw it down his throat with ease. "God, I'm so damn grateful that I'll never have to be in *that* position again."

From the shadows in the corner came an equally soft voice. "I concur, T'hy'la. Not a day passes when I do not feel grateful for the life bond we have formed."

Blue eyes softened slightly. "Right back at ya, Spock."



"Please do not ingest any more pickled onions. You *know* that they adversely affect your digestion."

Leonard rolled his eyes, inwardly cursing, not for the first time, his mate's fastidiousness. Nevertheless, he pointedly pushed the jar in question back across the bar.

He wouldn't complain too much. He was hoping to get lucky tonight. The fact was, he'd have a *far* better chance if he didn't have to open the windows and air out their suite first...



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